


Grumpy Old Spies: The Old Man and The Ice Prince Part 1

by Batagur



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batagur/pseuds/Batagur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The UNCLE Organizational flow chart in action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grumpy Old Spies: The Old Man and The Ice Prince Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Category: Adventure.  
> Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them and get nothin'.

I had watched the two agents enter his office to receive their orders. Just as we had called Mr. Waverly our 'Old Man', these agents call him their 'Old Man'. Unlike we had been with Waverly, these agents are not afraid to say it to his face. 

Napoleon does not discourage a small amount of familiarity in his ranks. He is not Alexander Waverly by any means. But he does expect performance and results from his agents. He commands their respect in a different way. His manner is easy and approachable. The agents perform from a loyalty born from admiration and respect to their 'Old Man'. He stands before them and shines down on them like their guiding light. I see it in all their eyes. He is 'father' to them when they call him 'Old Man'. 

I, however, am the 'Old Man's' bark. They only see or hear from me when they are embroiled in a mission that is not going as planned. When I appear on the scene, they know the 'Old Man' is not happy and he has sent in his personal repair crew to take charge. 

I am still the 'Ice Prince.' However, few are prepared to say that epithet to my face. We, Napoleon and I, are still a team even though he is Number One of Section One, North American and I am Number One of Section Three. Unofficially we still have clandestine operative status. It had often surprised agents in the beginning to see their bosses move into a position on the field. Now they understand that the sudden appearance of the 'Ice Prince' in their field operation did not bode well for their next performance evaluation. 

I had watched the two agents enter his office to receive their orders. Now I was watching them walk into an obvious trap. I closed my secured channel on my cell phone after Napoleon briefed me on the Agents' new objective. My objective was clear: retrieve, abort, and retry. I directed my driver to pull aside the two men walking calmly down the narrow Boston city street. My Driver, Maurice, obliged, pulling slightly ahead so that my window would be within their line of sight as we stopped. Agent Cooper, a sharp-eyed, dark-haired man, recognized me immediately. His stride checked as he put a hand out to stop Agent Foxx at his side.

"Say nothing," I commanded. "Get in."

The two men obeyed without question, opening the limousine door and sliding into the bench seat across from me. I slammed the door shut, rolling up the tinted window as Maurice pulled away from the curb. I settled back for what I knew would be a long ride as Maurice took a convoluted route to the small naval base where we would reconnoiter with the waiting UNCLE transport. 

Agent Cooper, the ranking agent in the team, looked at me with a grim wariness. I expected this. Agent Foxx looked agitated and incensed. To his credit, he kept his lips clamped tightly as if he knew that any argument was sheer folly on his part. 

Cooper had to ask. His curiosity was peaked and my silence, I knew, was deafening. 

"Sir?" He stalled and looked as if he was trying to decide which question was appropriate to ask first. 

"Your mission was aborted," I said quietly. "You are to be re-deployed."

"But we were just heading to check on a strong lead…."

"You were heading into a trap," I said. Copper blinked in surprise and Foxx's head snapped up quickly. His open glare spoke volumes to me of his bruised pride. 

I lowered my eyes, but not in deference. This was a show of my own strength. I reached over to the small mini bar and retrieved a chilled bottle. I pored myself a drink into one of the small plastic cups that were ever present in the limo. I did not look up as I enjoyed the cool burn of vodka as it touched the back of my throat. 

"How…?" Foxx stopped his question when I looked up and into his eyes. He seemed to freeze like a rabbit waiting to see if I was the predator that it feared to find too close. His lips pinched shut again. 

"I am to debrief you for your next assignment." I continued to look Agent Foxx in the eye. He did not dare look away. "Mr. Solo has reason to believe that the Thrush target has moved it's money laundering operation to small fishing village in Finland. Mr. Cooper, I believe you are fluent in Finnish? Yes? " 

The dark-haired agent nodded soberly. Agent Foxx looked to his partner. It seemed an easy enough way for him to break eye contact with me without admitting any defeat. I felt a smile touch the corners of my mouth. I liked Agent Foxx. He often reminded me of my younger self in so many ways. 

I reached over to where a pair of envelopes sat on the seat beside me. I handed one to both agents. 

"The targets name and profile, your tickets once you arrive at Logan International, and your new objective, gentlemen."

I was silent as they both opened their debriefing envelopes. I gave them what I thought was a relatively fair amount of time to absorb the essentials. "Mr. Solo wants result, gentlemen. Follow your instructions to the letter. No variations… No improvisations." 

The limo came to a halt and Maurice's voice came thinly through the intercom. "We are here."

I opened the door but made no move to exit. I fixed each of the men with my coldest stare. "I do not want to have to retrieve you again. Do I make myself clear?"

Both men sat up straighter, looking me solidly in the eyes. They nodded. I inclined my head graciously, accepting their tribute. Then they hustle themselves out the limo door. I closed it as they watched me in stunned silence. Maurice pulled away.

My cell phone rang just then. Very much on cue, which told me that Napoleon was following the signal from the limo's GPS tracking. 

"Yes, Napasha?"

"You weren't too hard on them, were you?"

"Need you ask?"

"Damn. More emotional trauma treatments."

I smiled. Napoleon knew better but he could not miss a chance to tease. Neither could I. "I'm sure Papa will make it all better. You coddle them, Napoleon."

"I'm wounded!"

"Melodrama does not become you in your advanced age."

I heard Napoleon's warm chuckle and it lifted the secret place in my heart. 

"Come home, Illyusha."

"Yes."

My heart was already half way there. I would fly to his side like a falcon if I had wings. I could hear it in his voice: the sweet longing and the affection. We have been too long apart. 

End of part one.


End file.
